


State Capitols for 100

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:56:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: An embarrassing first spenderfic, hope you like it. (WiP/Not Beta'd)





	State Capitols for 100

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

State Capitols For 100 by The Lopsided Weevil

From: lopsided []  
Sent: Saturday, June 26, 1999 11:58 AM  
TITLE: State Capitols For 100  
AUTHOR: The Lopsided Weevil  
ARCHIVE: Please, no  
STATUS: An embarrassing first spenderfic, hope you like it. (WiP/Not Beta'd)

* * *

"Look, Spender, I just came down here to borrow the stapler, not have some deep philosophical discussion."

"No, you came down here to riffle through my drawers, Mulder."

"Yeah, right. In your dreams Jeffey."

"The name's Jeffrey. Agent Spender to you."

"Whatever."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Which was?"

"Have you ever had the sense that you were being followed?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like someone was watching you, or directing your thoughts."

"Welcome to the club, Agent Spender."

"And this song, I can't get it out of my head."

"What song?"

"Well, it all goes back to when I was a kid in school."

Mulder sighed. He didn't really want to be standing here, having some banal conversation with the person that had been responsible for destroying his life's work, but damn if the guy hadn't piqued his interest. It was strangely ironic; Jeffrey Spender, destroyer of the X-Files was himself showing potential as a future case. Now, if it could just involve lots of green slime and Scully doing an autopsy, he's be a truly happy man. 

"I couldn't remember my state capitols."

"You mean like Pierre, South Dakota?" South Dakota, the nation's hot-point for cattle mutilations. Mulder had made frequent trips there, even spending the odd vacation wandering the fields in hopes of finding some random case on which to spend a little free time. Nice, quiet town, Pierre, you'd never suspect. But then again, most of the places he'd visited looked so normal on the surface, it was only when you started digging around that you noticed how unusual things were. Then there was Spender, so blandly normal on the outside, like a cup of yogurt, but dig a little deeper, stir things up a bit and you'd find the rich, fruity filling hidden at the bottom. Yep, Jeffey was exactly like a cheap cup of yogurt. Underneath the wiry hair and the ill-fitting suits was something more interesting, something worth exploring, something worth stirring up. Something so...

"Right."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"Well, you see my Mom taught me these little songs to remember the capitols."

"Fascinating, Spender, you have me glued to the edge of my seat."

"Well there was this one rhyme she taught me, 'over hill, over dale, over Dover, Delaware.'"

"Okay, so you have some mental fixation with the capitol of Delaware?"

"No, you see the words have changed."

"Have they, now."

"It keeps repeating, over and over..."

"What does?"

"Over hill, over dale, over Drovar's underwear."

Mulder's face was overcome by a shockingly blank expression. Few men were capable of bringing him to speechlessness, but somehow Jeffrey Spender had managed bring his 160 IQ to a screeching halt, like the gears of a finely crafted clock, locked and frozen. Mulder's jaw dropped, ever so slightly. Drovar. Drovar. Where had he heard that name before? It sounded familiar. Something from one of his old cases, perhaps; something about... ferrets, yes, definitely something about ferrets. Or maybe it was one of those awful FOX TV specials, 'When Ferrets Attack.' Oh, hell, there was no figuring this one out. Spender was hopeless - a convoluted morass of contradictions. He just hoped that this story would end soon. It couldn't get much worse, could it?

"But it gets worse."

Mulder's face tilted down, such that he was forced to view the man opposite him through slightly bushy eyebrows. His chin was now nearly touching his chest.

"I hear voices, telling me things."

Great, he thought, Jeffrey Spender has his own private psychic friends network, and it was telling him things, suggesting he do things, no doubt. "Um, what sort of things?" Mulder didn't really want to know the answer, but it was the best his mind could come up in it's current state of confusion.

"Things."

"Things?"

"With you."

Mulder pulled back slightly, nearly bumping into the wall behind him and knocking a few loose files from the surface of the desk beside him. Yes, definitely something about 'When Ferrets Attack.' Suddenly, Mulder felt trapped.

"I can't take it any longer, Mulder, it has to stop, I have to know."

Mulder could see the line of sweat beading along Spender's forehead, like a lineup of runners at the start of some race, preparing to do the 50 meter dash down to the confused man's pouty lips. But Spender's line of racers had competition from a lineup quickly forming across Mulder's own brow. Mulder decided that the man was recounting some dark nightmare, or worse, some deeply repressed fantasy was unearthing itself from the farthest reaches of his mind. He hesitated, but his own ego forced him to move forward. 

"You have to know what?"

"I've seen the surveilence photos, hell, I've taken most of them myself. I have to know the truth." Spender took a step forward, inching closer to him.

God, he'd used one of Mulder's hot button words. The Truth, with a capital T, and that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool. "Pool?" The word slipped out without Mulder realizing it, a subconscious slip of the tongue. The tongue, slipping, sliding, wrapping itself willingly around the word. Pool. Some theories might suggest that 'pool' wasn't the real word that was on his mind, that it was only representational of some other word, some other thought scratching at the farthest depths of his mind, clawing to get out. Pool. P. Other words started with P. Pool. Power. Perception. Portentous. Pelvic Thrust. Yep, there certainly were lots of words that began with P. Piss, this was getting him nowhere.

"Yes, in the pool."

"The pool?" Did he hear that right?

"The speedos, Mulder. I have to know about the speedos."

"Um, uh..."

"I've seen the bulge, that big, red bulge, and the ass that goes along with it." Spender took another step forward.

"Um, I lost them."

"No you didn't, Mulder. They're right here." 

The two men were now only inches apart, sharing the same shadowy space, locked together by some freakish bond. For Mulder, there was no escaping this place, this time, there was nowhere to be, no one else to be with than here with Jeffrey, here with the thoughts that were gnawing at the back of his head.

"Here?"

"I'm wearing them."

Spender looked down, and Mulder instinctively followed his gaze, followed it straight to Spender's clearly bulging crotch.

"Uhhh..."

"I like wearing that patch of red fabric, feel it clinging so closely to me. I like knowing that what was just yesterday wrapped so tightly around your package is now silently rubbing against my own."

He could feel the hot breath of his tormentor burn across the side of his face, raising the fine hairs that dusted his upper cheek. His heart rate was increasing as a slight blush revealed itself.

"There's just one problem, Mulder."

"Yeah?"

"They're way to small to keep this agent's ferret caged."

Mulder became light-headed and the room seemed to swirl around him. As the picture that Spender painted filled his mind, his knees buckled under him and he collapsed into a giggling heap on the floor.

"You see, it's what Drovar wants. It's what he keeps repeating in my head. 'Free the Ferret. Free the Ferret.'"

As Mulder lay helpless at Spender's feet, he looked up into firey topaz eyes, and yet at the corners there was a kindness, a gentleness that comforted him and eased his fears. His mind wanted this, and his body was all too willing. It was time to uncage the ferret, time to set it free. He watched as the man standing above him slowly slipped off his suit coat and reached down for his belt buckle.

"You know, this is exactly what my dream was all about. You, on the floor. Me, standing over you, with my pants around my ankles. I have to give it to that Drovar, he knows what this ferret likes."

\- fin -

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Wanna read more of my stories?  
The Lopsided Weevil  
http://members.tripod.com/~cosight (my Chris Owens/Spender website)  
http://members.tripod.com/~Lopsided (for my M/K slashfic and tons more stuff)


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